Before speaking, she exchanged with the doctor a look of intelligence.
“You see what I mean?” she asked little above a whisper.
Dr. Bewick looked all around the room with leisurely appraising eyes, then nodded understanding. There was no intimation that he was not ready to listen, but he did not seem quite ready to talk. His white shirt-bosom was remarkably broad as he leaned back in his chair in the slightly lolling fashion of large, good-humored men. For all the nonchalance of his attitude, he looked, from evening tie to thin-soled dress-boots, beautifully spruce, as Aurora had remarked, and made an appropriate pendant to her in her Parisian finery.
Aurora, with a comedy of pride, threw up her chin, lifted her arms, and turned as if on a pivot, to show herself off in her elegance
322Approval of him was written large on Estelle’s pleasant, alert countenance; a quiet, comprehensive liking for her sat as plainly in the eyes reflecting her slim person and evening-frock of beaded net. Being Nell’s friends made them friends, a thing not so common as one wishes. Through her they felt almost on the familiar terms of old friendship, although Estelle had never met Dr. Tom Bewick before he came to New York to see them off on their great four-stacked ocean-steamer.
“You see what I mean?” she asked, and, not expecting a regular answer, did not wait for it. “Now that woman won’t leave until she has secured support for the mason’s five children, and she’ll do this without the smallest difficulty. In a day or two some one else will come, with the sad case of a poor father out of work who is going to have to sell his blind daughter’s canary unless Nell steps in to relieve their wants. And Nell will step in. Word has been passed, just as they say a tramp at home marks a house where he’s been given a meal, and every case of want in this town, it seems to me, is hopefully brought to Nell. And she listens every time; she doesn’t get sick of it. And you know, Doctor, that her circumstances don’t warrant it.”
Bewick, as Estelle stopped for some comment on his side, made a slight motion of chin and eyelids that partly or deprecatingly agreed with her. He took the cigar out of his mouth, but having knocked the ash off, replaced it, to listen further and not for the moment speak.
“It’s positively funny, the things Nell has been doing with her money,” Estelle went on, in a tone that did not 323disguise the fact of her glorying in this prodigality while being justly frightened by it. “It’s not just the ordinary charities, churches, hospitals, etc.,–all of those send in their regular bills, as you might say. It’s a Swiss music-box for the crippled son of the spazzaturaio, or street-cleaner; it’s a marriage-portion for this one and funeral expenses for that one; it’s filling the mendicant nuns’ coal-cellar, it’s clothing a whole orphan-school in a cheerfuller color! Clotilde and Italo call her attention to every deserving case, and are guided in this by the simple knowledge that Nell can’t hold on to her money. Of course it’s her good heart. She’s done a lot for them and their family, too, I’ve discovered. I don’t know just how much, but I can guess by their look of licking their chops. I’m not saying they aren’t all right–honest, sincere, and so forth–or that I don’t like them. It’s Nell’s own fault that she’s imposed on. I don’t doubt that they’re as devoted as they seem, it’s only right they should be. It’s right the whole city of Florence should be. I was thinking only the other day as we drove through Viale Lorenzo the Magnificent that it would be appropriate for a grateful city to rechristen our street Viale Aurora the Magnificent.”
Tom Bewick laughed, nodding to himself with an effect of relish. He murmured, “Aurora the Magnificent!”